


The Portrait

by dovesdanceatdawn



Series: Origami and Poetry [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel, Demisexual Sam, Ficlet, Human Castiel, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Sam Winchester, Poet Sam, Sleepy Sam, Storytelling, Touch, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovesdanceatdawn/pseuds/dovesdanceatdawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Say it again?” Sam rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder and took in the starry night above them.</em><br/><br/>Under the late night sky, Castiel told Sam a little bedtime story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> A little sleepy, poet Sam never hurt anybody. :)

 

“Say it again?” Sam rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder and took in the starry night above them. Droopy eyelids threatened to tug him away from the calm spring warmth, constellations, and everything wrapped in a trench coat and nostalgia. Sam swallowed and repeated his question.

The rustle of fabric underneath the hunter didn’t help keep the pull of sleep away but it did bring him a little bit back to the world. Fingers found their way onto Sam’s skin and brushed up and down near the elbow. Sam shuddered and let the tingles radiate up his arm.

“The stars in the sky are snapshots,” Castiel whispered. “Faded photographs shown to inhabitants of this planet. Moments before their death, stars show a brilliance man, plant, and animal alike have years to witness.” His other hand pressed against Sam’s chest. “You cannot feel their departure, but when I had my grace, I felt every pang, every breath extinguished. Right here.” He patted the thick flannel twice. A heartbeat’s worth of warmth.

“The watcher recedes from the tired lamb,” Sam said, voice losing strength. “Black is all that calls him.” It called him now, back to the edges of meat hooks and chains, fire, and the familiar sting of ice. His eyes widened when warm finger pads traced the edge of his jawline. 

“But you must never mistake the stars as true beauty,” Castiel continued, “when in front of us, there is a true portrait being captured.” He stopped stroking Sam’s arm and took the larger hand into his. “The passion one feels on dawn-kissed skin for instance.” His thumb massaged the first knuckle. “Or the droplets of dew shocking vegetation alive once more.”

Cas removed his fingers from Sam’s jaw. A second later, drops plopped and rolled down the side of Sam’s face. “The tingles one feels before the moon bids farewell.”

Sam closed his eyes, mouth quivering, tongue fighting to make words. He settled with biting his lower lip when Castiel’s fingers traced water tracks and stopped near the edge of his mouth. His eyes fought to stay open, dark thoughts fading … fading. His body relaxed around folds of heat and comfort and he sighed, welcoming sleep.

Soft lips kissed Sam’s right temple. “’For in the black there is beauty in the satin touch of summer’s sun.’” Cas kissed the left. “‘The light found there is truly precious. The purest moments watched in silence. ‘Sweet dreams, my poet.”

Sam breathed in home and dreamed.

  

**Author's Note:**

> Like "Explorers," "The Portrait" lacks origami. Both ficlets give us a peek into their relationship after the sun sets. The next part of this series will have origami. :)


End file.
